


One More

by MiHnn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Romance, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiHnn/pseuds/MiHnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They always knew something was missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More

It was surprising how serene Hermione felt. Her limbs ached, her chest hurt and she felt the grime and muck that was plastered to her skin. Looking around, she saw the death and destruction that was caused by the war. But today was a happy day, wasn’t it? Voldemort was finally dead.

With shaky legs, she collapsed onto the nearest bench, her eyes scanning the mess that was the Great Hall. Now that it was over, people mourned the dead, patiently cleaned the wounded while healing who they could and giving the unwanted, grievous news to those unfortunate. And all the while, a few Ministry officials stood off to the side discussing strategies and making decisions. She was grateful for that. She couldn’t decide anything at the moment. She felt too numb; as if what had happened was a dream that happened to someone else. It didn’t feel like something that had happened to _her_. 

A sob caused her to look up, her eyes landing on the Weasleys who were huddled together. Mrs Weasley and George were on their knees beside the lifeless body of Fred, with Bill, Fleur, Mr Weasley, Charlie, Percy and Ginny standing around them with silent grief, holding onto each other as if holding onto dear life. Ron sat a bit farther from his family, his head bowed and his hands entwined as if in silent prayer. Her heart broke at the loss she saw, though she felt unable to shed a tear. She felt too emotionally drained at the moment. Hermione suspected that there would come a time when she would finally cry, finally feel all that had happened and shake as the sobs wracked her body. If that moment ever came, she wasn't sure if she could ever stop.

Almost as an afterthought, her eyes sought out Harry, as they always seemed to do. She found him at the other end of the Hall, nodding as Kingsley and two others spoke to him. She saw her best friend hand over the Elder Wand, his back straight and his eyes determined. Then, his gaze fell on a couple a few feet away, their lifeless bodies lying alongside each other in death as they had been in life. Kingsley’s next words took Harry’s attention away from Remus and Tonks, causing him to nod mechanically at whatever it was they were saying.

Hermione’s glance fell on Ron once again, before travelling the length of the Great Hall to land on Harry. Their losses were so tangible that she could practically feel it in her bones. Her fingers flexed subconsciously, almost as if she wanted nothing more than to hold them and comfort them both. 

Without another thought, she stood up, her slow steps taking her to Ron first. He looked up when she stood before him, his blue eyes glazed with unshed tears and his shoulders hunched in defeat. Hermione’s breath hitched when she realized that in all the years she’s known him, she had never seen him the way he looked at that moment; as if all the hope had been taken away from him and all that remained was an empty shell of despair. Silently, she held out her hand. Ron eyed her offer before he placed his own in hers; both hands, callused and cut, meeting confidently and allowing her to help pull him to his feet. Once he stood up alongside her, she entwined her fingers amongst his and nudged him forward.

Ron followed her curiously, leaving his grieving family behind and squeezing her hand so hard it felt numb within moments. Hermione made her way towards the other end of the Hall, weaving through the countless bodies, dead and cold as well as injured and alive, her legs showing strength that she didn’t feel. When she finally reached Harry, he was just turning away from Kingsley, having finished the discussion they had been having for quite some time. 

Harry looked at them curiously, his eyes questioning them while Hermione held out her other hand to him. He met Ron’s gaze - who shrugged- before taking her hand in his. With a small smile aimed at her two confused best friends, Hermione led the way, knowing that the main reason they willingly followed her even with the lack of information given, was because of the trust they had in her. 

They followed silently, walking down the halls that she walked and climbing the steps that she climbed, and throughout the whole journey, her fingers didn’t loosen for one second, tightening their hold time and again to reassure them whenever a questioning noise was let out. Finally, it was Harry who broke the silence. 

“Are we going to the Gryffindor common room?”

Ron shifted awkwardly. “We need to go back.”

“No,” Hermione stated calmly. “We need to rest. We haven’t slept a wink for nearly two days.”

When they stopped in front of the Fat Lady, she swung open her portrait with a happy smile and without any word. Hermione led the boys' through the portrait hole and towards the boys’ dormitories, climbing the stairs easily. 

“Hermione-“

“We should really get back.”

She tightened her grip around their fingers and urged her to follow them. Once they entered the room she knew so well – for the simple reason that it was the room that Ron and Harry shared with Dean, Seamus and Neville – she led them to the closest bed which was Ron’s. 

“Hermione-“

She urged them to sit down. Reluctantly, and more important, with utter confusion, they say down on the bed. Hermione toed her shoes off before crawling onto the bed between them, ignoring the messy state she was in as she laid down on the soft quilt, placing her head with the tangled, dirty circles on the clean pillow. She turned on her side to face them, her eyes questioning them. 

Incredulously, the boys looked at her.

“You’re mental,” said Ron, his lips twisting in amusement. 

“No,” Hermione whispered, shaking her head with a small movement. “I’m tired. Aren’t you?” 

Harry and Ron looked at each other, and she could imagine the silent conversation they were having. It probably started with, ‘Do you recognize that barmy bird we call our friend?’ followed swiftly by, ‘She’s right, you know’. 

With a shrug, Ron collapsed onto the bed dramatically with a roll of his eyes causing Hermione to bounce on the bedding with a giggle. She snuggled against him and looked at Harry, who, despite everything that had happened, sported a grin. 

“Scoot,” he said as he slapped at their legs, so he could have room to crawl over to Hermione’s other side. Ron chose to kick him, to which Harry grabbed his best friend’s legs and touched Hermione in the back of her knees where he knew she was ticklish.

“Harry,” she chastised, mid-laughter, while he finally had the room to move to her other side and collapse tiredly, his shoulder pushing against hers. 

It was a tight fit, but they managed. 

A moment of silence followed as the three laid there; her head on Ron’s shoulder, and her arm around his waist. She concentrated on his breathing, the slow way his chest rose and fell under her. Twisting her neck, uncomfortably, she looked up, blue eyes meeting her brown ones sadly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. There was nothing else to say. Nothing seemed good enough. 

Ron swallowed an imaginary lump, his eyes meeting hers almost in a silent plea for help. “It happens.” 

Twisting her neck further, she leaned up until her lips met his; a gentle kiss that she hoped said everything she wanted to say. 

The slight shift of a body on the other side drew her attention away from Ron, who had closed his eyes in a way that seemed almost like he was finally letting himself fall into a much needed slumber. She twisted until she met Harry’s gaze, his green eyes distracted by thought. 

“You okay?”

He didn’t say anything, simply letting his hand seek out hers. Hermione sighed, raising gentle fingers to move away the fringe that had grown longer the past several months. 

“I’m sorry, Harry.” She didn’t say their names, or the name of the son they had left behind. But she knew that was what he was thinking about. 

He looked so lost, the happiness he had felt the moment Voldemort was defeated having evaporated in wake of the losses they had seen. She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, vaguely aware that she felt the need to do so much more to take his attention away from everything that had happened. When she moved back, he stopped her, a hand circling her neck to hold her still as he placed his lips on hers. Hermione knew she was meant to pull away; but she didn’t. She found herself responding gently to his kiss, her lips pulling against his just as his were pulling against hers. When she pulled back, her eyes met his and she could see that he didn’t regret it as much as she would have expected him to. The kicker was, neither did she. 

Silently, she shifted again until she laid down on her back, causing Ron and Harry to roll onto their sides due to the extremely small space the three of them had squeezed themselves into. Ron immediately snuggled closer to her, moving down slightly so his head could rest comfortably on her shoulder, while one arm circled her waist. Harry made a move to leave then, but Hermione tightened her grip on his hand and looked at him meaningfully. After a moment of hesitation, he moved closer to her, dropping his head on her other shoulder as his own arm circled around her waist after nudging Ron’s hand away. She could feel Ron’s slight smile against her neck, before he nudged Harry’s away, a mini battle occurring right over her stomach and causing her to roll her eyes at their antics. With a little bit of shifting, she managed to free her arms and circled them both, choosing the golden opportunity to flick both their ears and earn two sounds of protests. 

When Harry made a move to pull away his hand, Ron grabbed it, entwining their fingers before letting their hands rest on her. Hermione tightened her grip around them, enjoying the feel of two chests against her, rising and falling with her own breath while the warm puffs of air bounced lightly against her skin. Without a thought, she placed one kiss lightly on Ron’s brow, then another on Harry’s. 

_Her two boys_. They had survived it all. She was beyond grateful that their warm bodies against hers were the proof that she needed to remind herself that they were all alive and together. Their death would have been the end of her. She truly did care for them.

Before she finally gave into a much needed, dreamless sleep, one final thought went through her mind: Merlin, she loved them both.

\------------------------------------

Hermione woke just as she had done for countless days of her life; choosing to first lean to the side to place a gentle kiss on the brow of her sleeping husband before throwing off the covers, pulling on her robe and heading to get a pot of coffee going. But while she was in the kitchen getting breakfast ready, she then found her brow furrowed by what she perceived as a sheer mess. Without another thought, she started pottering about, pulling things and cleaning things before placing them in places that she would have never thought to put them if it weren’t for the state that she was currently in. 

Once she was finished with the kitchen, she then moved onto the living room, which was where she was visited by a confused gaze and a barely loud mumble of, “Hermione?”

Hermione stopped fluffing the sofa cushion that she held in her hands as her eyes landed on Ron. He eyed her warily, his own eyes still droopy from sleep as he scratched the back of his neck lazily. 

“Go back to bed,” Hermione said as she continued fluffing the cushion. 

Once she placed the household item in – what she was convinced as the right place – she raised her head curiously, the silence from the other end of the room, unexpected.

Ron was simply looking around their modest house incredulously. “Were you _cleaning_?”

Hermione looked around just as he did. Did she really clean that much? Was her house looking that much different? 

Ron stepped forward, his bare footsteps soft as he came to stand before her. “You all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said stiffly.

He looked at her knowingly, his arms circling around her before he nudged her towards the couch. Once they sat down, he pulled her closer, and Hermione revelled in the warmth as she allowed herself to snuggle against him. 

“Do you think he’ll be happy here?” she found herself whispering. It had been a fear that had taken hold of her when she had first received the news. Maybe it was illogical. But most things seem illogical when she thought about it. 

“Why shouldn’t he be happy here?” Ron replied softly, moving his hand along her arm soothingly. “He’s got you, and me, and apparently a dainty house in the English countryside,” he finished mockingly.

Hermione poked him in the side, fighting the amusement of Ron imitating the stern estate agent who had sold them their house. 

Once his laughter subsided, she asked the second dreaded question. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

Her husband stayed silent for a moment in thought, which caused Hermione to nudge her head upward slightly to try to gauge his expression. 

“If he’s not,” said Ron, “he will be.” He then placed a loving kiss against her temple. “Let’s go back to bed. It’s Saturday.”

“The day of rest?”

He smirked. “The day of laziness.” 

Feeling that much better, she untangled herself from his arms and stood up. She held out her hand, offering to take it, but Ron shook his head. 

“I’ll be right in.” He gestured towards the kitchen. “Water.” 

Hermione nodded distractedly before she loosened her robe and headed back towards their bedroom with soft steps. Thinking that she might want some water as well, she turned around to tell her husband so; but paused. Ron stood close to the entrance of the kitchen, his back hunched as he picked up a moving picture of himself, Hermione and Harry. There was a wistful smile that played on his lips, and a pained look of longing in his eyes. Hermione could clearly see the picture of the three of them at Harry’s wedding which was barely a few years ago. Harry stood in the middle, sporting a cheeky grin as Ron and Hermione stood on either side, placing a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheeks for a laugh. The original picture had Ginny, who Ron had pushed to the side, looking nothing more than displeased. Hermione had cut her out of the picture when she decided to frame it. She felt guilty about it, while at the same time, she rather liked the look of it and preferred if the happy moment wasn’t sullied by sullen expressions. 

The Harry, Hermione and Ron in the picture laughed, and joked and embraced. Her husband let his thumb stroke Harry’s picture affectionately before placing the picture where he had found it and proceeding into the kitchen.

Hermione felt a pang in her chest. Sometimes she would see him look at pictures of Harry and sometimes he would catch her bringing up the name of their best friend whenever she could. Ron didn’t like talking about their Harry while all she wanted to do was find out how he was fairing; whether he was happy and healthy, whether he missed them as much as they seemed to miss him. Ron would shake his head and change the subject. 

Their lives have been content together and Hermione had never faulted Ron for that. They loved each other deeply. But it didn’t stop her from fantasising about a slightly different, slightly altered life where instead of coming home to one man, she came home to two, instead of making dinner with one husband, pottering about in the kitchen with two, and instead of making love to one man, having two warm breaths on either side of her neck. 

At first she had pushed down those feelings, but lately, and especially after the news of Harry’s arrival, she thought of hardly anything else. 

She wanted that life so much that it scared her. She didn’t know what either of them would say if she were to ever tell them that all she wanted was the two of them; equally. 

By the time Ron came back to bed, Hermione was already under the covers. He had barely slipped in himself when she kissed him, slow, deep in an effort to quench the thirst that she felt inside her. He kissed her back his hand circling her neck to hold her still while he got closer. 

Hermione wasn’t proud of it, but with her eyes closed, she imagined that one hand belonged to another, working in tandem with Ron as he fondled and kissed his way across her skin. Sometimes the lips would be his or she would imagine the hair her fingers ran through as messy, dark strands. But the whisper of ‘Hermione’ against her skin would always be Ron’s because she knew his voice and she knew his heartbeat. She loved him deeply. She only wished that she could love him with the whole of her being rather than sharing it with someone else. But she did love him enough to know that Ron is the one who finally takes her. Her imagination could never make her imagine Harry in that way; she knew no better. 

She loved them both, her boys. She just wished she could have them both too.

\------------------------------------

When Harry finally arrived, Ron wasn’t there to greet him. Hermione stood near the window of her house, curtains drawn and fingers fidgeting while she waited for the Portkey that would bring her best friend to her. She wished Ron could have made some excuse to the Captain of the Chudley Canons and been here for this. Her nerves were grating against each other so much that she felt raw inside; her fidgety stance doing nothing to calm her. 

Only when he finally appeared, clutching an old raggedy doll that Hermione finally felt any semblance of thought leave her mind. With a few strides, she found herself flung into his arms, her grip tight as she thought, Merlin, she missed him.

“Merlin, I missed you.” His grip tightened so much he lifted her off the floor.

Hermione laughed. “My thoughts exactly.” She finally pulled away once he placed her down safely. “How are you, Harry?”

His grin was just as she remembered it. “Good. I’m good.” He looked over her shoulder. “Where’s Ron?”

Hermione felt her smile become decidedly fake at that moment. “He had practice. He tried, but he couldn’t get out of it.”

She could practically feel his shoulders deflate. “Oh.”

“But…” she said as brightly as she could muster. “I have a meeting in the evening and he will be here to keep you company.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You two taking turns to look after me, now?” 

“Only until you learn never to play with anything sharp,” she said playfully, earning a laugh from him. “C’mon. You must be hungry.”

He grabbed her arm to stop her. “Wait. I…”

“What?” she found herself asking breathlessly. 

He kept his eyes on where he had grabbed her arm, his fingers trailing down before taking her hand in his. 

“Thank you for this. Ginny-“

Hermione shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It happens. We’re just happy to have you.”

He hesitated, his eyes rising to meet hers. “Are you happy that it happened?”

Hermione stared back at him, at a loss for words. She was suddenly aware that his eyes had sparked a brilliant green when he had asked her that question, that he was standing so close to her that she could easily kiss him and that all she wanted to do _was_ kiss him.

But she didn’t. Instead, she slipped her fingers from his and forced a smile on her lips. “I’m happy you’re here.”

She ignored the insistent thudding of her heart and the way his eyes dulled lightly as he nodded. Harry followed her as she made her way to the dining room.

The rest of the day went just as she planned. She showed him where she and Ron lived and spoke about their lives in general. But she couldn’t forget the feeling of her hand in his or the way he had looked at her. She doubted that she ever could.

It was later, when Ron had finally joined them and the two of them laughed and joked as if years hadn’t passed without them seeing each other that Hermione let herself feel envy. How she wished she could just switch off her feelings and enjoy what was happening the way Ron and Harry seemed to be. She really was the worst when it came to ignoring things that had any effect on her.

\------------------------------------

It had been three weeks since Harry had arrived and he had settled in just fine. It had been gradual, but he seemed to blend into their lives effortlessly. They did things together, the three of them. There was never Ron, her and maybe Harry. It was always Ron, Hermione and Harry; just like their Hogwarts years. Hermione hadn’t been this happy in years. 

The only notable change was that even as they ate together, went out together and really, just lived together, she and Ron hadn’t done more than share a few moments of snogging since Harry’s arrival. Any other time she would have been upset, but she found herself unable to initiate anything knowing that Harry was in the adjoining room. 

They had fallen into a routine of sorts. She had her job at the Ministry, Ron had his practices with the Chudley Canons and Harry worked as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts that luckily was in his fourth year of teaching. He boasted time and again that he had singlehandedly broken the curse, and that it had nothing to do with the fall of Voldemort. It was good having him back, actually; very good. 

It was one of those inconspicuously boring days when Hermione decided to come home early from work. She had had a rough day and all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball between Ron and Harry and watch some television until her mind turned into mush. They had made it a pseudo date, the three of them, choosing to sit amongst each other on the sofa whenever either of them had a particularly trying day at work. 

Hermione had entered the house, her head throbbing when she had heard raised voices. Surprised, she stepped in and closed the door behind her softly. 

“What the bloody hell were you thinking, telling my sister that?”

“It was the only thing I could think of.”

Hermione dropped her bag on the couch and tip toed closer to the kitchen. From where she was standing, she could see Ron pace the length of it in suppressed rage. 

“The only thing? That was the _only_ thing you could think of?”

Harry stepped forward and she could see his glare which was deadly. “Did you want me to tell her the truth?”

A heartbeat passed and Ron simply stared at Harry. “What truth?”

Harry shook his head. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

She could see Ron fight something, some deep seated curiosity to find out exactly what Harry had meant. “Does she think it’s Hermione?”

Harry took off his glasses to rub his eyes tiredly. “I don’t know.” Placing them back on the bridge of his nose, he sighed. “She definitely doesn’t think it’s you.”

Maybe Harry had meant it as a laugh, she didn’t know. But their expressions didn’t seem amused in the slightest. 

“You shouldn’t have told her that you cheated on her.” Ron’s voice was factual. 

Harry looked at him defiantly. “How do you know I didn’t?”

“I know. Believe me, Harry, I know.”

They looked at each other, their eyes communicating more than what their lips were saying. Hermione felt goose-pimples rise up her arms as Ron suddenly, and without warning, took a few purposeful steps towards Harry and kissed him. Hermione’s eyes widened. Her eyes widened further when she spied Harry respond just as eagerly. It was a surreal experience seeing her husband and best friend snogging right in front of her. So passionately it turned out, that rather than feel upset, Hermione felt the familiar ache at the bottom of her belly, the need to go join them overwhelming her. 

Hermione continued watching them in silence, her eyes following hungrily as Ron’s hands roamed over Harry’s arms, while Harry’s hands studied his broad back, one hand buried in his red hair. They had pulled themselves flush against each other, their bodies moving together as they touched, tongued and moaned. Hermione was so distracted that she hardly noticed that she dropped one of the figurines given by her mother when she was leaning precariously to the side in order to see more. 

The smash of the ugly thing against the floor broke their embrace and their eyes rose in panic to meet hers. 

“Hermione!” Ron squeaked, immediately untangling himself from Harry.

The three of them simply stared at each other, neither of them sure of what they were to do. 

It was Harry who finally moved, to Hermione and Ron’s surprise. He circled the table, came towards her as a predator stalking a prey, and before long she was in his arms kissing him as passionately as she had seen her husband kiss him. She didn’t think as her lips stroked his and she leaned into him fully, allowing her body to mould against his the way she had always wanted it to. When Harry pulled back, she followed his gaze and looked at Ron, knowing that her arms had circled his waist while Harry’s hand had trailed down to her arse. 

Ron simply looked at them, and it was his expression that suddenly made her aware of exactly what Harry was proposing. She felt butterflies in her stomach while Ron gulped nervously. 

But she wanted this. She really did want this. 

Feeling a combination of fear and nervous energy around her, Hermione held out her hand, feeling Harry’s grip tighten around her. 

Ron simply glanced between the two of them before he stepped closer and took her hand in his. Without another word, Hermione led her boys – _her_ boys – to the bedroom, excitement thrumming in her blood.

It seemed like the most surreal experience at first. Instead of kissing one man, she kissed two. Four hands helped her slip out of her clothing while her own hands hurriedly sought to diverge two set of shirts, two belts and two pants. When they laid down together, her hands trailed over two chests, her fingers tangled in two different textures of hair, and she felt tongue and teeth and lips shower her with affection the way she had always wanted. It surprised her how much seeing Ron and Harry touch one another brought a thrill up her spine, that seeing their eyes heavy lidded when they explored each other’s bodies brought a need to the base of her belly and a wetness between her thighs. They were both considerate and loving, and before long Hermione grew impatient with the exploration of skin, wanting nothing more than to sate the burning desire that was bringing her to the brink of madness. 

Her insistent whimper was all it took for Ron to truly touch her, the familiarity of his body against hers and his fingers between her thighs bringing her to the edge only to stop and allow Harry to take over. She had never been this close to her dark haired best friend, neither did she ever expect that she would be lying naked before him as he slid into her, his skin slick with sweat while her husband fondled her breast and kissed her passionately. The way Harry moved was slow at first, causing her to meet him thrust for thrust as her hips rose in unbridled need. Before long, the tension that was wracking her body, released as she reached that peak, her body slumping and her breath coming out unevenly. 

Ron kissed her, his arms circling around her even as Harry pulled out, his member still hard, still pulsing. With a practiced nudge, Hermione was straddling her husband, taking him in quickly inch by inch. Having him after Harry felt heavenly, and even though Ron had to place his hands on her hips and guide her, within moments she was leading him, bouncing faster and faster against him. 

It was not until she felt Harry behind her, his chest flat against her back and his warm kisses against her neck and shoulder that she slowed down, allowing him to play with her nipples with one hand as the other trailed lower to stroke her clit lightly, that Hermione felt her breathing become heavier. She felt Harry trail his fingers around her hips, her arse, before she felt him against her anus. She had only ever tried anal once with Ron and didn’t quite like the feel of it. But now, with Ron thrusting into her and her best friend lubing her with her own wetness, she couldn’t help the excitement that rose in her chest at the prospect of having them both inside her. Without a second thought, Hermione nodded and leaned forward to allow Harry to enter her. It was slow at first, and painful, but she continued through it, her mind concentrating on the man under her, and the man behind her, their feel, their sounds, their breaths. Harry went slowly, each movement bringing him a little deeper and each movement ebbing away the pain. It wasn’t long, before Hermione had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out, the feel of the two men she loved the most rhythmically moving inside her causing a volcano to erupt in the bottom of her belly. The tension inside her coiled and coiled before it burst, taking her first, then Harry, then Ron. When the three of them collapsed, sated and silent one beside the other, Hermione was suddenly aware that they hadn’t said a word. It was Ron who finally broke the silence.

“Well, I think I might know why Ginny left you.”

A moment of silence passed before a reluctant chuckle escaped Harry, which only caused Hermione to giggle and Ron to pull her towards them with a laugh. And they continued to laugh, the ridiculousness of the situation finally settling in. 

Harry rubbed his eyes, his eyes falling on her “I’m tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Hermione nodded, knowing that he knew her well enough to know that she would need to analyse what had happened between the three of them. “Tomorrow,” she promised, before she took his hand in hers and pulled him closer.

It was only after, when the three of them were lying together with limbs entangled that she finally allowed herself to smile. 

They always knew something was missing.


End file.
